


(Not) Thin air

by charcoalscenes



Series: Backdated Publications [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalscenes/pseuds/charcoalscenes
Summary: Five times Astral and Yuma failed to touch (and the rest of the time not letting that stop them).(Posted to AO3 on February 2021 with a Backdated Publication date from when it posted to Tumblr.)
Relationships: Astral/Tsukumo Yuuma
Series: Backdated Publications [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170983
Kudos: 5





	(Not) Thin air

**Author's Note:**

> Actual publication into AO3 is on February 2021. This is an old piece I shared on Tumblr and wanted to post using this site's Backdate feature. More older fics will likely be added onto the Backdated Publications series, so for anyone interested in this piece or in checking out the others, enjoy!

The first time they failed at touching was over nothing. Yuma remembered Astral talking about trees. He then told Astral things he heard from the Kid Science channel and from grade school, that trees give off oxygen from leaves, that you couldn’t plant them too close to each other or their roots would damage each other before they’d grow. 

Astral had still been frequently insulting in those days, and Yuma wanted to prove to him that, yes, he could be smart, that he did learn a thing or two from school. But instead of being particularly impressed or shamed, Astral just stopped drifting on the spot and stared across the street. “That one,” he spoke of the small city tree he was staring at, “looks almost like a person with his arms out.” 

Yuma scoffed and irritatingly whacked at Astral’s arm. His hand went right through, of course, but he didn’t acknowledge it, even when Astral turned his attention to the unaffected spot Yuma had tried to josh with. Yuma continued their walk, grumbling to himself how Astral wouldn’t pay attention unless he had something mean or rude to say. The ghost of an alien silently followed him.

The second time was an accident. Astral sat beside him on the park bench. The sun was already well into setting, but Haru and Akari were still sending him to stores and shops all over the city for errands. “Why do old people host parties, anyway?” He complained as he gave himself a break, not caring if the dog walkers and the children returning home from playgrounds overheard him “talking to himself.” He leaned to the side casually, momentarily exhausted, but was startled back into awareness with the absence of Astral’s shoulder. “A-Ah-…” 

He sat up, sighing and closing his eyes and grumbling about picking up the next batch of food for tomorrow to disguise his embarrassment. Astral didn’t bring his own head up, staring at the concrete below his crossed legs, also refusing to acknowledge Yuma’s slip. He stayed in the same sitting position even after Yuma stood up and strode to their next stop, letting himself simply float in that same pose. 

The third time, Yuma tried to punch him. It was a very in-the-spur-of-the-moment thing, something Yuma never apologized for because he didn’t want to hear Astral suggesting that they throw away their friends again. 

The fourth time was foolish, because it was pretend. When little kids are lonely but have heads filled with the romances that fairy tales give them, they’ll lean forward into the empty air while puckering their lips. Yuma found Astral hovering beside him as he was sprawled on his hammock, the alien horizontal and leaning back in a similar position as he floated. 

The furrow between Astral’s eyes was deeper again, his frown one of worry instead of impassivity, and Yuma reached out to place his hand over the one folded over the ghost’s blue stomach. He couldn’t feel anything there, and he knew it was likely that Astral couldn’t feel anything either, but he kept his hand suspended. “I know you’re still scared,” Yuma murmured. “I’ll protect you. From Kaito and anyone else, too.” 

The fifth time was right after the first time they didn’t have to pretend, when they didn’t physically touch so much as smash their two whole selves together and mold into a body of power and unity. The fifth time was like the fourth time. Yuma turned from the excited chatter of their friends, all of them barely into puberty and yet have already experienced the thrill of fighting giant robots and running from a crumbling building, and he saw Astral looking down at the space between them. Yuma’s gaze followed, and he smiled at Astral’s see-through fingers enclosing themselves like a sheer drape around Yuma’s hand. 

Astral smiled, his mouth not moving, but Yuma heard, “Thank you” as a thumb pretended to rub his knuckles. 

Yuma tried to continue counting their failures after that second pretend, but gave up somewhere between the eighth time, when Astral flopped his chin on Yuma’s head, and the eleventh, when they’d briefly looped arms to silently mock how Kotori and Cathy had made up and held each other after another argument. Astral couldn’t keep count either. They liked it that way.


End file.
